


Solstice Night

by mphelmsman



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Holidays, M/M, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mphelmsman/pseuds/mphelmsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds some comfort during the holiday season in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstice Night

**Author's Note:**

> un beta'd, un britpicked sorry

John knew that Sherlock Holmes had not time for Christmas. He had complained bitterly as Mrs Hudson and John had gone around putting lights up and the party John threw couldn’t have been more of a disaster. So he was slightly confused when he woke very late on the night of the 21st and found Sherlock sitting alone downstairs in front of a single lit candle that was surrounded by some of the leavings of Holly, Mistletoe, and Pine that had been left from the decorating. Also on the table were a strange silver cup and plate that held some biscuits. Sherlock sat staring at the candle so entranced that John was immediately worried, he scanned the room for evidence of intravenous syringe.

“I’ve not taken anything, John.” The detective said without turning his head.

“Sherlock, what’s….what’s this then?” John stepped closer carefully.

“You do know that Christmas is a relatively recent holiday to be celebrated in Britain.”

“Recent…..2000 years is recent.” John sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. He had no idea what the time was but it was far too early for whatever this was.

“Recent depends on your point of view. Anyway, its stolen holiday, placed in this month because…..” Holmes tilted his head and finally looked at his Doctor. “Well, that does not really make much difference. Suffice it to say it was never the first reason why we have so many silly social gatherings this time of the year.”

John leaned back, putting a hand over his eyes, “It’s a chance to catch up with friends and family, Sherlock. People want to feel nice this time of year.”

“Probably brought on by racial instincts that drive humans to seek the company of other humans during a time when, through most of our evolution, food was communally shared to allow for the survival of the most people. “ Sherlock said dismissively.

“And your point?”

“There were other reasons once. Most of them having to do with blood on the snow to bring back the sun. Some people, some families remember.” Sherlock rested his fingers lightly on the silver cup and trailed them down the edge.

“Your family?” John sat forward now. Sherlock never talked of his family if he could help it, other than vocally deprecating Mycroft whenever he could.

Sherlock nodded a fraction, “At times we take this night to remember that for the world to turn men and women have to give up their lives. Our ancestors thought it was necessary for the sun to rise; now it is felt necessary for civilization to thrive. Neither reason is relevant….sacrifices are necessary and people die. A fact of life.” He sighed and picked up the cup admiring how the light of the candle reflected off its intricately decorated surface. He finally looked John completely in the eye. “Will you remember with me this night?”

John’s felt worry rest a heavy hand on his shoulders, he knew the detective must be thinking of Irene Adler. Maybe he wasn’t as untouched by her death as the doctor had thought. “Yeah….yeah, alright.” He sat down on the floor beside his friend

“Thank you, John.” Sherlock said simply. He held out the cup to his friend and took it back to take a drink himself.

“I still don’t understand. What are we doing?”

“Waiting for the sun….and remembering.” Sherlock said. And that’s what they did.

_And I will remember this night, my dearest John. Because I will be dead soon, or something like, I am the sacrifice and there is nothing now I can do to stop it. Moriarty will have me and where there is now warmth it will be cold, so cold. But I will remember this night when you sat at my side to share a plate and a cup and the small light of a candle. I will take that memory into the darkness and it will be my weapon against true death so that by chance, on another solstice night we can share this again._

_This is the start of my goodbye John. It will be bitter enough at the end but tonight it is sweet as honey on the tongue._

Sherlock would never share those private thoughts that night but they may have been the only thing that saved his life….. until he came back to 221B and found cold where the warmth had been.

 


End file.
